


Hierarchy of Needs

by Unity Press Digital (unitypressdigital)



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Agency 34, F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unitypressdigital/pseuds/Unity%20Press%20Digital
Summary: Her name was Raven, and she was a superhero, now she’s a well-paid super slut! When her current talent agency, the infamous Agency 63, kicks her to the curb will Agency 34 be there to catch her?





	1. Chapter 1

_An Ishtar writing story for Unity Press_

The floor gave way, ancient rollers grinding against the stone in their channels as Raven was cast into darkness. Landing with a start her wrists were snared, clamped tight by the jaws of finely wrought iron manacles that looked like asps, their eldritch design cutting her off from her powers and leaving the svelte superheroine to writhe impotently beneath a bright spotlight. Somewhere to her right a pair of doors opened and a half dozen heavily armed – and oiled – men in the garb of ancient Egyptians stormed in, forming a wall of swords around her. Then the high priestess entered, her face hidden by an impassive black mask of the jackal goddess Anput. Spreading her arms wide and resting her fists on her hips the masked woman laughed imperiously. Beneath her flowing cloak she was entirely nude, her golden tan body practically glowing in the dark half-light, her proud breasts protruding outward capped in gold pasties. Below the waist, she was entirely exposed and had her pubic bush shaved into the shape of an Ankh. “We have you now.”

“Aboobis,” Raven sneered. “You’ll never get away with this, transforming the leaders of the world into rape-crazy dick wolves, diabolical.”

“You will find I already have,” the priestess chortled, approaching her captive with a smug sway of her hips. “At the stroke of noon when the misguided old men of this world gather to sign the accords, my gene craft bomb will detonate, turning every man, woman, and child in Luxembourg into savages. The world will have a front-row seat as they people they have entrusted to guide them are humiliated, lost and without protection, they will once more turn to the Egyptian gods.” She shuddered with arousal. “And me.”

“You’re mad.”

“Mad am I?” Aboobis sneered. “We shall see, but you won’t be around to do anything about it.” The priestess pointed into the shadows. “Doctor Tits! Process her!”

As Doctor Tits loomed out of the shadows, a leering madman in nothing but a white lab coat with a massive pair of breasts ballooning from his chest, Raven tried to remain professional and keep the excitement off of her face. The chemical primer had been injected into Raven’s bloodstream some ten minutes before filming, and she could feel the potent cocktail of endorphins, hormones, and aphrodisiacs were starting to get to her head under the hot lights. Just out of sight she could see the cameras whirring away, zooming in to get a better look as she licked her lips and tried to make it look like she was in peril.

Raven was dressed in her old fighting togs: a long purple-blue cape with hood and black leotard, and neat shoes. She was also, once again, flat as a board and the muscles of her stomach could be seen through the one-size-too-small uniform so that her small breasts could be a more readily pronounced pair of molehills.

It was there that Doctor Tits, cackling evilly, injected her with a dual pair of brutal strokes that sent glowing goo into her breasts. The effects were immediate and wonderful, and Raven struggled to bite back a groan as her chest began to swell. It started as a pulsating heat in each breast, her nipples hardening fast as they strained against her costume. Then they began to grow, and grow quickly, readily observable by the human eye. Soon she could not resist voicing her heated moaning, her mouth hanging open and petite tongue sticking out from her mouth as she panted lustily.

She could feel her excitement ooze down her leg as she started growing again, becoming more and more like the curvaceous woman she wanted to be. She gasped as her top started to tear and then all at once popped open, her massive dusky tits bouncing out freely, bobbing around. She felt like a cow in need of milking as she moaned again. She was desperate to feel her tits or to have someone else feel them, to suck on and bite them, but all she could do was writhe and struggle against the restraints for the cameras; her thighs pulling inward in an effort to rub them together.

Only later, after the set had finished and she was released from her confinement was she able to do something about her condition. She barely said two words to her co-workers and the director before she burst into her trailer. Her fingers were trembling as she locked the door, and then finally alone, she tore off the remains of her costume and threw herself into her favorite chair. Placing one leg on her makeup table she began to furiously rub her drooling slit, squeezing her aching clit roughly while she used one hand to cradle one of her breasts and pull it to her face. Whether it was the injection of chemicals or her own lurid nature she couldn’t tell, but she loved the taste of her own breasts, and lashing her tongue over her nipple sucked it hard while squirming in her seat.

Other characters, after being dismissed from their spot on television or film, struggled to find their place in the world. Many held out last minute hope for that unlikely revival. Almost all of them paid the bills with a little porn on the side for one of the major agencies. Raven had found that she loved the job. The freedom, the intensity, the attention, it all set her tight teen titan cunt churning with excitement, especially not to be consistently competing for the spotlight with that cheap whore Slutfire. On top of that, she was working for one of the most aggressive and successful Agencies among the Eidos, Agency sixty-three specializing in hardcore fetish porn which was the highest paying in the industry. They were the ones who had gotten her hooked on having her tits expanded, and while she could transform them with magic quite easily, she found there was just something so sultry about having it chemically induced. The feel of the needle, the rush of cold fluid into her veins, the sudden resultant fire in her loins. It was all too much. Raven bit her lip as hard as she could and held back the scream as she came all over her hand.

She was still there panting blissfully when there was a sharp rap on the door. Blinking from her stupor she reached around and picked up a shoe, throwing it at the door. “Fuck off!” she shouted. Once she never would have thought to use such language, but she had lost many such pretentions working for the agency.

“It’s Loki.” Called the voice from outside.

Raven came fully awake. Jumping out of her chair and covering its seat in a throw pillow she stashed her costume under the divan and grabbed a nearby towel, wrapping herself in it. Once she was sure she was decent, she unlocked the door and sat once more. “Come on in,” she called. “It’s open.”

When Loki came in Raven pretended not to be happy to see him. She pretended not to have any emotion at all, that was still her thing, but she couldn’t deny that the dark haired trickster god in the green suit touched off all of her sexy Goth buttons. She waved at him noncommittally because it didn’t suit to look too desperate. “What do you want?” she asked.

“Nice place,” Loki remarked, looking over the trailer. He sniffed and Raven felt heat rush to her cheeks. Then he shrugged, clapping his hands together, and pulled out a letter handing it toward the former superheroine who took it. When she saw the bright pink color in the envelope window she glanced at Loki with a look of shock and anger. “You’re letting me go?”

“For now,” Loki concurred. “There haven’t been that many requests for you since that new show started, and frankly the powers that be are a little more interested in Lady Legasus.”

“What,” Raven seethed, getting to her feet. “So because I don’t look like a half made ten-year-old people don’t want me? What can that little kid character have that I don’t? Hell,” Raven threw off her towel and stood naked in front of Loki, grabbing her enhanced breasts in both hands. “She has less!”

“Who knows?” Loki shrugged. “I don’t control the audience and I don’t make the rules.”

“But,” Raven sagged. “What am I supposed to do?” Then her eyes widened at a sudden realization. If she were let go, even laid off, that meant no more injections. No more injections meant no more busty Raven. She would shrivel back to just plain Jane Raven in no time. Sweat began to bead her forehead. “How am I supposed to work?”

“You’ll figure something out.”

Biting her lower lip again Raven drifted towards Loki and gently touched him on the arm, the other hand moving to his shoulder. “Come on,” she said quietly loading her words with promise. “I’m good, it’s just been slow, and I’ll come around.”

Loki scowled and shoved her off of him as though he’d been touched by something vile. “Get your shit and get off of my lot you slag,” he said. “I’ve got real stars to attend to.”

And that was all there was to it. Thirteen years in the business, a lifetime to most Eidos, and she was out on her ear. It wasn’t so bad at first once her breasts had returned to normal, and she owned the trailer so she could keep most of her property as she had it driven out to the edge of town. It was quiet there with the endless white space stretching out in all directions. No wind, no oppressive heat or cold, no irritating buzz of snowy television, just calm quiet.

Then the withdrawal hit.

Raven had done enough After School specials and public service announcements when she had been mainstream to recognize the effects of most drugs: irritability, sweating, irrational thoughts and strange physical sensations. They were things she could have mitigated with magic if she could still concentrate to summon her magic, but that was the first thing she discovered had gone to the wayside during her tenure with Agency sixty-three. She couldn’t bring forth even the simplest psychokinetic effects. The only positive tradeoff was she didn’t have to put up with nine different incarnations of herself all vying for attention either. There was one Raven in one body, and that Raven was worthless. As worthless as her stupid flat chest and her stupid tiny tits, no one would ever want her like this. All she did all day was shuffle around in her robe and feel terrible, moving between bed and a tub of ice cream. It was called Fatty’s. Even the ice cream hated her.

Someone knocked on the door to her trailer.

Taking off her slipper she threw it at the door. “Fuck off!”

There was quiet and Raven wondered if whoever it was had followed through on her command, then they called in. “It’s Puck.”

“Puck who?” she yelled without getting up from the divan.

“The Puck,” the voice on the other side of the door said emphatically. “I work with Agency thirty-four, and I’m looking for Rachel Roth.”

“Nobody calls me that,” Raven said. “Come on in if you want its open.”

Opening the door to the trailer Puck stood there as three empty cartons of Fatty’s Fat Ice Cream fell out on the ground in front of him. Gingerly ascending the steps into the trailer he found more trash spread out, leaving only a narrow path through the trailer while Raven sat miserably on a little love seat. She wore a black robe with small cartoon rabbit skulls on it, and her feet were similarly stuffed into cute Goth slippers. One foot at least, it seemed the other slipper had been thrown across the room. Puck picked up the offending footwear and handed it back to her.

“Thank you,” Raven mumbled, putting her slipper back on.

“Miss Roth,” he started.

“Call me Raven.”

Puck watched her for a moment. “Miss Roth,” he began again. “We’ve heard you were released from your contract with Agency Sixty-Three and you’re looking for work, is that true?”

“Yeah,” Raven said stuffing her mouth with a large spoon of ice cream at the mention of her former employer. “They laid me off. Said nobody wanted me anymore. Can’t blame them,” she sneered. “Who would want a girl so tiny she can’t even be seen?”

“I’m sorry?”

Raven pouted. “See? Even you can’t see them. I might as well be a guy with these tiny titties.”

“Ah,” Puck started then stopped. “I see, no ma’am, I’m not specifically interested in your breasts although I’m sure they’re perfectly nice.”

“Then what do you want?” Raven said.

“We want to hire you,” Puck said. “Agency thirty-four is the oldest and most respected model talent agency in Eidos and we hire only the best actors and actresses across the multiverse for high-end adult entertainment. You have, frankly, a profound library of films and a great deal of respect in the industry for what you’ve done.”

“You’ve seen my films?” Raven asked, blinking wide.

“A few,” Puck admitted. “Something Wicked This Way Cums, Belt straps and Bed knobs, Confessions of a Teen Age Super Prostitute, and of course The Lion, The Witch, and the Warm Hole, you made an excellent stand in for the white queen.”

Raven sniffed, wiping a tear from her face at the thought of better days. “I was pretty big, wasn’t I?”

“Not just your chest ma’am,” Puck said. “You inspired a generation.”

“And you want me to work for you?”

“Yes ma’am, full time,” Puck paused to point a finger. “And we won’t lie to you.”

That got Raven’s attention. Leaning forward she put her chin on her palm and rested her elbow on her knee. “Lie to me?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“There was never a slow down, ma’am,” Puck said. “Your contract was up for renegotiation and Loki knew that, by accepting the layoff you preemptively agreed to a settlement in the agency’s favor. Instead of being paid a fair wage for your work relative to your talent, they got you addicted to transformations, used you for a decade’s worth of films, and then kicked you to the curb before they would have to recognize your accomplishments.”

Puck ducked as Raven rose off of the Divan and promptly shoved it across the room with nothing but the power of her mind, a nimbus of black energy gathering around the loveseat as her eyes shone bright white. “That bastard!” she screeched.

“That’s why he’s called the god of lies,” Puck said.

“And what do they call you?” Raven asked, squinting at the elf.

“Why,” he smiled playfully. “I’m a Puckish rogue.”

 

Six weeks later and some hard weight training had put muscle back on Raven in a big way. The first had been horrible, but Puck had been by her side the entire time for recovery, using magic to help her ease the transition. The rest had been her determination. A mile run, eating right, a full gym routine, it was less like the sleazy back alley Sixty-Three shoots and closer to a full-time Hollywood production. Agency Thirty-Four expected their talent to be healthy, skilled, and capable, but they would also do whatever it took to keep them that way, and Raven relished the opportunity to start to feel in control of herself again.

There had also been the meditation. Viewers didn’t want a person who looked like Raven but was fundamentally just a pair of tits and a hole. Real fans wanted her; all of her, the good with the bad, and that meant regaining her magic. The only thing she actually missed was having a massive rack, and that would have meant going back to work for Agency Sixty-Three.

Now it was the morning of the shoot for a new potential series called Everyone Loves Starfire. Normally the idea of appearing in a Starfire centric piece would have disgusted her, but the script was good – loosely based on the Teen Titans episode where they all broke into Robin’s room and wore his extra uniforms – and it was supposed to be a light comedy and so more like the show she had cut her teeth on. “Puck,” she said, scrutinizing the script while her agent stood nearby. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Nervous?” Puck asked. Standing in Raven’s dressing room he was entirely nonplussed by her appearance while she struggled to remain decent. The Starfire outfit she had been given was a little loose by design, and the dusky superheroine had noticed how it hung off of her.

“The script calls for a lot of breast play,” Raven said. “I don’t have the breasts anymore.”

“I had a thought about that,” Puck said slyly. Opening the curtain to Raven’s dressing area a small furry creature entered going completely under it. He was short and fuzzy with an obvious drug-fuelled buzz, but he wore a ridiculously long sniper rifle over one shoulder. “This is one of our corporate head hunters. He finds us talent, like yourself, who are on the outs and need some help. Say hello, Teemo.”

“Hey man,” the yordel said. “I’m freakin’ out man.”

“Shut up, Teemo.”

The yordel burped while Raven watched him skeptically. Puck, however, was unconcerned as he put out his hand. “Give us one, won’t you?” he asked. Then Teemo produced a green mushroom with purple spots, handing it to the fae who in turn passed it to Raven.

“I’m high as balls right now, I gotta tell ya.”

“Fuck off, Teemo.”

Raven blinked, watching the exchange, and then looked at the mushroom speculatively as the yordel took his leave, Puck remaining. “You don’t need to worry,” he said. “It’s not addictive and all-natural; I’m told the Mario Brothers do something similar in their scenes.”

“You mean you want me to eat this mushroom?”

“Well,” Puck shrugged. “Drink it. Open the top and chug.”

Watching Puck dubiously, Raven popped the top of the mushroom off and found it full of a frothy purple fluid like a fruit soda. Drinking it down her eyes widened. It did indeed have a kick. Thankfully years of injected breast expansion serums had left her well adapted to being as Teemo put it ‘high as balls’, and she wasn’t instantly overcome by the feeling. However, she did give a contented moan, thighs turning inward as her breasts and backside began to grow once more. Soon the Starfire uniform was more than filling out, she was threatening to fall out of it as the material groaned to contain Raven’s massive charms. Wobbling drunkenly she leaned on her new makeup table.

“Oh, my.” She said.

“I think you’ll be ready for the set now, Miss Roth.”

Steadying herself she walked over to the elf agent, who was only tall enough that his face disappeared into her breasts when she hugged him, Raven leaned down and kissed him on the cheek as he struggled to breathe after being released. “I told you,” she said. “Call me Raven.”

Continuing on from her dressing room she stepped out onto the set and was surprised to see something of a reunion: Robin, Beast Boy, and Cyborg, all trying to look macho and serious while wearing Starfire’s uniform, the latter two looking quite nervous with their masculinity just out of sight in the too short skirt. However, before Raven could chortle she was first tackled and her face stuffed into warm tangerine orange flesh. “Oh, glorious day!” Starfire squealed. “Raven! Have you come to make the pornography with us?”

Yup, Raven thought with a sudden scowl to hide how happy she was.

Just like coming home.


	2. 12,000 CC of Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuation of Raven's story with Agency 34 and her on going journey of self discovery (It involves really big boobs)
> 
> As always feedback is appreciated, requests for work will be considered and commissions are accepted.
> 
> For requests please subscribe to our channel on picarto and drop by with your idea
> 
> https://picarto.tv/runeknight3
> 
> https://unitypressdigital.com/runeknights-commission-page/

_An Ishtar Writing Story Commissioned for Unity Press_

Some people don’t get the difference between reality and fantasy. For an entire species of disparate creatures created by story and song, that’s saying something. I had just started a new Agency 34 brand to compete with Agency 63 in their takeover bid and build up the war chest called Heroic Heat, the idea was to buoy up the usual hero in peril genre with some more nuanced storytelling that closely mirrored the original content. A creator named ZONE had been doing it for years, and I figured what was good for the goose was good for the gander. Our flagship was the Teen Titans who were having something of a revival due to the divisive nature of a spin-off set calling themselves the Teen Titans GO! These two groups of fans utterly hated each other, and their private little slap fight was generating a lot of energy for all the Eidos involved. So, in my way of causing trouble, we came out with our own version called _Teen Titans STOP!_ alongside _Everyone Loves Starfire_ , _Cranking the Shaft_ – an auto erotica between Cyborg and a sweet android from the Transformers set – and _The Trials of the Beast_. Poor kid, I never knew how many people wanted to see Garfield take it on the chin; or the forehead for that matter.

I’m The Puck. I run the agency.

It started on an otherwise normal Sunday morning that Rachel Roth, Raven, called me up and requested a lunch. Now I lunch with a lot of people but, in general, an actor going through the process of actually formally requesting to meet me rarely bodes well. I dealt with all kinds: star struck primadonnas, demanding clients, slutty clients, underhanded backstabbing clients, but when someone wanted to get serious they would summon me to lunch in public and it usually ended with one or the other of us laying down the law.

I met Raven at a local pizzeria, some things were indelible to a character regardless of how much they changed and sat down across from the spry eighteen-year-old in her preferred booth. She was wearing a trench coat, sunglasses, and a fishing hat as though that would obscure her, and it was painfully cute to see. Perpetually at the cusp of blossoming into a full figured woman, her dusky skin, and wide, deep, eyes were exotic and mysterious. Her purple hair always curled ‘just so’ beneath her chin, and though she was frankly flat as a board she had a spunky kind of athleticism of a gymnast with an ass that didn’t quit. She could have her choice of men if she wanted them, and the only one who didn’t know it was her.

“Hi, Puck.” She said, looking side to side nervously.

“Miss Roth.”

“You want to get a pie?” she asked, snatching up a menu and trying to look like she was just here for food. It was adorable when the powerful tried to look like one of the plebs. Even when I was a young Puck it was impossible for the nobility to pass for a commoner. They were too clean, too well spoken, and didn’t enjoy the simple pleasures of a fart joke.

Who in the multiverse was going to believe Rachel Roth was just a normal in that getup? “I’d rather you told me what this was about,” I said as evenly as I could manage. “I’ve got things to do and your appointment was rather last minute.”

“Sorry,” she said, removing the hat and scratching the back of her head. “I’m not good at this.”

“Farthest thing from my mind,” I lied, not letting the smirk come to my face. “What’s up?”

Raven handed me a sheaf of papers and I thumbed through them on the quick. They were a series of Manga images from a book called Lucky Girls and seemed to concern a young male obsessed with his mother and her ridiculously immense rack. I glanced at Raven over the edge of my own sunglasses speculatively and wondered why a sweet little girl like her, regardless of how much porn she had starred in, would possess these sorts of things. Raven squirmed a bit and in an instant, I had some idea.

“If you’re looking for us to make a role like this, I’m sure we can,” I said. “Let me take this to corporate and we can fit you into the schedule by end of month, maybe something with the doom patrol?”

“No,” Raven said sharply which had my attention. Then she looked around sheepishly and leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “I don’t want to do this with the others.”

“Well we can do a solo if you want,” I acquiesced. “That’s not hard.”

“You’re not getting me,” she insisted. “I don’t want a part; I can have a part if I want.” She paused and bit her lower lip, and for a moment I knew why guys wanted her so badly. She was a perfect storm of self-assured self-mastery and fragility. She made women want to be her, and men want to take care of her, and it wasn’t even a learned skill. I was sure she wasn’t even aware of it, which made it even more attractive. “I want to be big.” She said.

“Big?”

Whipping off her sunglasses she glowered at me with a crackle of occult energy and grabbed her chest, hefting her largely nonexistent breasts at me. “Big damn it!” she hissed. “I want some fun bags, some Gazonas, sweater puppies! I want to be an international balloon smuggler!”

I blinked rapidly.

“You’ve thought about this a lot,” I said.

Frustrated, Raven growled and knit her fingers in her hair, breathing out slowly before she looked at me again. Again she was the little fragile teen and my heart went out to her. It must have been hard to come from this more modern age where characters were perpetually children, to have adult thoughts and desires, and the expectation of unreasonable purity. When I was a youth a human was a man at fifteen and had been working since he was seven. Here was a young woman with more power in her finger than most had in their entire bodies, the daughter of a sorceress and a demon, struggling to get through to me. I placed my hand on hers as it dropped to the table and she looked at it, then at me, invigorated. “I was a solo star for a long time,” she said. “And I liked what I did; I’d like to do that again.”

“With magic you can,” I said. “We can make you as big as you want before every shoot.”

“But that’s not what I mean, Puck,” she said with a sudden sniff. I feared intensely she was going to start crying. I couldn’t handle that level of honesty, having been schooled in cynicism for four hundred years. “I mean I used to be big all the time. Agency sixty-three gave me the goods, so I could walk down the street and everyone stared. I was a fixture on the Friday night party scene. I was a tasty Raven pie in need of a cream filling, and Jinx and I used to burn up the town.”

I had heard about those parties. Jinx was one of the few independent agents who sold her talents wherever she liked. With her hexes, she could adjust her body herself for almost any role, or change her appearance to suit. When Teen Titans GO! started up, she had defied expectation and gone back to mainstream with her friends from HIVE University like it wasn’t any big thing. I guess when you’re a villain and used to getting your ass kicked on a weekly basis, being a monkey on screen for cheap laughs doesn’t seem like that different a thing. I had never been to the parties Raven was talking about, but I had seen a modeling shot with Jinx in a nurses outfit. It was cut off, and I recall a slim gray leg coming in from the side. I had always wondered whose leg that had been; now I knew and the room felt uncomfortably warm in my suit.

“Who wants me like this now?” Raven asked, gesturing again to her nonexistent pair of tits. “I have to buy my clothes in kid’s sizes, Puck; do you know how infuriating that is?”

“I can imagine,” I said, and I could. I was an elf; we were perpetually in the shorties section of the big and tall shop. “So what am I supposed to do to help you?”

“I want enhancement surgery.” Raven declared seriously. “I want you to make it happen and I want you to make my tits bigger.” She bit her lip again and I could just feel with my animal brain she was rubbing her thighs together. “Really, really, big.”

I made some calls.

***

Puck didn’t sugar coat it because I was a pretty face. This was going to cost, and it was going to cost a lot. The agency would front for most of the doctor’s bills, but I was going to be in deep to the agency for a while and my films would have to sell or I’d need to consider other options. I couldn’t help but feel nervous all things being equal. As I was, I could go back to the mainstream, appear in the family friendly commercials and ads. Doing this reduced my pool of choices rather than improved it, and despite what you may have heard there are people out there who don’t like giant breasts.

I  was up to the challenge and a week later Puck and I was at Eidos general. Puck wasn’t actually required to be there, and I knew holding my hand accomplished exactly dick when he could have been working with other clients, but it was nice. Puck cares for all of his clients, does what he can for them, and was always sorry to let them go. He told me I was one of those clients. I was so happy to be sitting there with him.

I was taking my life in my hands, remaking myself into who I wanted to be. For some of us who were really well known in the world, whose being was really well defined, the ability to redefine ourselves was a big thing.

Even so, sitting in the examination room, I was scared. There were a lot of things that could go wrong. Eidos physiology is a delicate balance between magical and alchemical processes. I know the transition would hurt but I wondered about what might happen. I had heard rumor of something called _Frankenboob_ and shuddered to contemplate it.

When my doctor entered he turned his back to me settling onto a rolling bench and began going through my charts. Then he turned about to address me and my jaw hit the floor. Overall his form was masculine albeit will formed and muscular. There wasn’t a trace of hair on his body except for his head where I could see it, and he wore a conservative pair of slacks, sensible shoes, and a dress shirt beneath his white coat that strained to contain two head-sized breasts. “Doctor Tits?”

 “Actually, it’s Doctor Teetz,” The doctor said fixing me with a tired expression. I suddenly felt foolish. Of course, the guy had a real job and a real life away from the camera. Not all of us were superstars who could fall back on our fame. Thankfully, he pressed on without pause. “I’ll need to ask you some questions so we can ensure your implants are the best for your body type and your subjective health concerns.”

I nodded.

Doctor Teetz proceeded through a series of inquiries, mostly stuff I had been asked before on paper that he wanted to verify then told me to wait while he made some last minute adjustments. As he left I was told the nurse would be in shortly. I was grateful for the breather because it gave me a chance to get over my embarrassment. Soon after, however, the door opened and a nurse entered wearing a pastel pink uniform that raised high on her hips and sank scandalously low on her immense chest. On her head, she wore a tiny pink nursing cap that crowned her blond hair as it hung in well-coifed bundles around her face, which was fair skinned and with bright chocolate brown eyes. I found myself staring as she swayed forward smiling at me and I watched her eyes roam over my body in a way I could only describe as rapacious. “My,” she said soothingly. “Aren’t you a looker?”

“Thanks,” I muttered uncomfortably.

“Well,” she prompted. “Turn around and let’s see the other side.”

“Why?” I asked. Self-consciously I crossed my arms over my chest, my legs naturally squeezing together, but the nurse was having none of it as she drew me to my feet with gentle but firm hands. Turning me about with one smooth motion, she pushed me forward and I dropped across the examination table as though I didn’t have any strength in my body at all. I blushed as my hospital gown fell open revealing my toned and reasonably well-shaped ass, pressed as it was into a spaghetti strapped pair of panties with a skull motif beneath the poorly considered raven ‘tramp stamp’ tattoo I had gotten one drunken night.

The nurse pressed right up behind me and her hands draped tenderly over my shoulders, sliding down along my arms until they reached my elbows and then she reached under me and brazenly groped my chest. I gasped my chilled nipples instantly hardening through my paper smock as they felt warm fingertips tug and twist them gently. This was hardly professional behavior, but I was powerless to do anything as she pressed up against my back and began to luridly chew my earlobe, mumbling in my ear. “Are you going to be a big girl?” she asked.

“Oh god,” I groaned, my thighs squirming against one another. “So very big.”

“How big?” She asked as she began to rub my breasts together against each of her palms, causing the paper sheet to rustle over her hands. In spite of myself, I found my legs slowly opening wider as if to receive something, feeling heat lifting off of my loins like steam. I was panting like an animal in heat. “The biggest,” I swore. “Bigger than anything.”

As I lay there the nurse began to grind herself against my backside, a wanton growl filling my ears as she asserted herself. At first, I could only feel silk moving against silk with a delicious grating sound between the two fabrics, but soon I felt hot flesh sliding along my ass as my panties fell down my thighs from the weight of what was being ground against me. It was so big and throbbing I barely registered it in my sudden lust fuelled haze as being a fat masculine cock, but such thoughts were lost to me as my breasts were massaged and I felt her tits rubbing on my back firmly.

Soon the nurse couldn’t hold them any longer as the weight of her body caused my own to flatten out against the examination table. Her grip shifted to my shoulders, nails digging into my skin, while beneath her my hard nipples were ground against the table. I could hear and feel her as she got harder and harder against my butt, my cheeks spread around that girth like a bun lovingly holding a hot dog. The air was getting hotter, the world spinning, and I was like putty in her hands letting her do whatever she wanted to me. “You feel good,” she whispered as she rubbed against me. “Think about how much better you’re going to feel with those big, juicy, fun pillows.”

I could only groan. As she continued rutting against me my attention became centered on the massive breasts motioning against my shoulders. They were impossibly big and if I had been a bit shorter my head would have been entirely consumed between them. I could imagine being enmeshed in them, surrounded by that warmth and smell, so safe and quiet with no one else. I wanted to be there. I wanted to be holding someone else like that and feel them clinging to me. I wanted it all so bad.

“I’m going to cream all over you, my sweet girl.” The nurse gasped behind me.

I wanted that too.

With a sudden cry, the nurse began to spasm against me, her girth twitching like a snake before she started pouring hot white jizz across my back and buttocks. The pale quicksilver fluid splattered across my dusky skin, stark against it like cinnamon icing. The feel of her exploding against me, coating my body in lava, made my center melt and honey drooled down my thighs as I came hard.

Moments later the nurse adjusted herself, tucking away her cock, and was making ready to leave. I wanted to say something, but all I could do was lay there in bliss with cum cooling on my ass. Before she left, however, the nurse helped me stand and gave me a motherly hug. For a moment I was buried in those breasts as I had been imagining, and a cooed happily at the feeling. “You’re going to be just fine.” She said. “See you around, okay?”

I mumbled incoherently as she set me back on the exam table and left the room. I wasn’t alone for very long before the door opened and a sour-looking nurse with a bleary-eyed expression came in. Seeing my situation she grumbled and called out to the hallway. “We got another one!”

It turned out the not-nurse was a regular visitor who got her kicks by molesting the patients. I was mortified at the idea. Not because I’d been the subject of her attentions, I’d done worse things for a paycheck on camera, but because I had loved every minute of it. They cleaned me up and hastened me to surgery apologizing profusely the entire way. If Puck had been there I think he would have been grateful to the stranger for sparing me the medical bills.

Besides, I was on tap for six thousand cubic centimeters of fluid. That’s what I wanted per breast. I couldn’t possibly imagine what that was going to look like, but I couldn’t wait to find out. While the surgery itself had been conventional, no one except religious types made a stink about magically aided healing, and there were no scars to indicate where I had been opened up.

The first hour in recovery I don’t remember very well, having been put under with conventional anesthetics. Magic just falls off of me if I want it to, but I’ve always been a soft touch for drugs of all kinds. Once the drugs wore off, however, I remember my chest being one giant ball of pain. I lay in a bed for about an hour and then, once I was steady, met again with the Doctor Teet who prescribed a program of antibiotics to forestall infections as well as some other drugs to promote healing. Then I was put into a wheelchair, I don’t know why it’s just the way they do things and wheeled to the front door by a nurse.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said noncommittally. I wasn’t looking forward to waddling home with this huge ball of acme bandages wrapped around my chest. They felt heavy, and my center of gravity was shot. I wasn’t looking forward to a lot of things, like going home to my trailer with my DVD collection of _Bewitched_ and a TV dinner. “Top of the world.”

“Don’t be a sourpuss.” The nurse said. Halting my wheelchair as we reached the curb she came around the corner and tapped me on the nose with one authoritative finger. I tried to speak, but I was too stunned. It was the woman from the examination room!  Fully in view, she was a tall, long-limbed, curvaceous, and blond with brown doe eyes. However, I was taken aback by the sheer size of her tits, forgetting for the moment that this was the same person that had hot dogged my ass with her equally huge dick earlier that day. The not nurse's eyes sparkled mischievously as she helped me to stand. “Careful now, you don’t want to fall on those beautiful things.”

“You’re,” I started.

“Charlotte,” she interrupted with a smile. “And I’m like you.”

“You’re not like me by a long shot!” I snapped, pulling my arm away. Then I began to wobble, arms outstretched, tottering on my heels before I was caught and pulled against Charlotte’s massive chest. “You’ve got a cock for one.”

“Yup,” she beamed, unfazed by my rancor. “Balls too.”

“I’ll say.” I sneered leaning against her. “What do you want?”

“I want to help you,” she said continuing to smile. “We girls have to stick together.”

“I think you’ve been close enough.”

“Aw,” Charlotte pouted. “And here I was going to invite you to dinner.”

Far be it from me to turn down free food. I learned that Charlotte actually was a nurse, but not a doctor’s assistant. She was an orthopedic therapist specializing in post-op care. She further explained over dessert that she had taken to the role after gaining her own breasts which, like mine, were expandable. Charlotte loved breasts as much as I did, but she wasn’t really a transsexual, she liked using her cock a bit too much for that. Instead, she ran a club of some sort for people like me and those people undergoing to change who did want to become female characters. That was a dangerous prospect since Eidos were so tied to their identities, but there were those who could make the transition successfully.

Before I knew it Charlotte and I were back at my place. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was home. Then we were in the bedroom. Charlotte lay back against my headboard and I snuggled up to her, my face surrounded by her massive breasts. I’ve never slept so well.

Once I had recovered sufficiently to be on my feet, Charlotte and I began a new routine of recovery with zeal. I ran, swam a dozen laps, and started weight training. I only watched Charlotte once when she was swinging around a medicine ball, but it was too much for me, the sight of her in skin tight dark green sweats and a top soaked through with sweat – her every muscle outlined in stark relief – gave me butterflies.

But it wasn’t easy, immediately after the surgery was a period of adjustment where I couldn’t keep my balance. I didn’t fall down thankfully, but I did bump into a lot of things, usually Puck dropping by to check on me. Growing acclimated to my new breasts after surgery had left my center of gravity off and I moved more like a big toddler than a full grown woman, my heavy breasts rolling first one direction and then the other with a mind of their own. They weren’t quite ready for the proud up and down heaving men usually think off when they think of big bouncy tits, but they did slosh around an awful lot like the foamy crown of a soft drink threatening to pour out onto the floor. To say nothing of when I first took off the bandages and found my whole chest covered in bright bruises.

Charlotte told me they were one of the potential results of the healing process, along with more pain.

Thankfully, she was on hand, and I consistently found massaging myself receiving her massages, rubbing my breasts tenderly, working my heavy mounds like bread dough. I wondered occasionally if this was more than therapy, but if this was instead some sort of extended fetish fuelled vacation I wasn’t going to complain.

Instead, I started barraging Puck with typewritten prospectus for new films, more films than I could possibly work in: _Bodacious Balloon Battles of the Klutzy Girl Genius, Tits McKenzie: International Spy, I was a Teenage Milk Cow_ and others besides. No way was he going to turn down free work.

Besides, this was also part of the process. First, they filled my chest with some sort of half-filled saline organs, and then over the course of weeks carefully increased the amount they held with injections. I used the downtime to write, reclining cozily in the surgical chair and purring like a kitten as the cold fluid poured into my body as though I could feel it causing my tits to grow and swell, the skin stretching to accommodate the new weight. Then I would exercise, including the regular massages, to keep the new flesh pliant and supple.

Charlotte and I started shopping. There were trips to the salon between treatments, excursions to the boutique where we would buy exotic lingerie to show off to one another. Charlotte said I looked fantastic with my increasingly busty chest pressed into confining shapes or ballooning out over the tops of clothes like a pair of delicious muffins. Meanwhile, she would only reveal herself coyly, the massiveness of her soft rack at odds with the harder more chiseled lines of her delicate body, masculine member, and the swollen testes that perpetually tried to escape her panties.

All of this only became apparent to Puck when I requested we meet with him for a meeting so I could introduce a new potential talent. Of course, he accepted and was behind his desk doing his best looking busy act when we entered. I had foregone the usual costume for a scandalously low-cut, ridiculously high on the thigh, one piece ‘little purple dress’ I strained credulity to call other than a single shirt sleeve with how it clung to my curves. I was practically falling out of it as I heaved into the room through the door wearing long Spanish heels that accentuated my feet and lifted the heel until I was practically mincing about on tiptoe, the sliver of material supported by a strap that encircled my ankle.

I prepared for this in the weeks leading up to the meeting with dancing lessons. I didn’t quite understand why until Charlotte explained it would help me adapt to the weight as I incrementally transitioned from flats to lifts and from lifts to heels. Soon gone were the pixie boots, replaced with thigh high heels more fitting a dominatrix. Additionally, I found that, perhaps as a result of my increased self-confidence, the shoes gave me a foot or so of height. I was closer to a six foot twenty-year-old than a sullen five foot tall eighteen-year-old and while still a ‘Goth girl’ through and through I had traded my enigmatic pout for a wide predatory grin.

I was reasonably sure Puck knew I was putting on a show for me with the increasingly skimpy costumes I would flounce around in, but pointing it out would have been unprofessional. Today, however, I was oozing sexuality as Charlotte and I darkened his doorstep. Charlotte was similarly attired in a black number that complimented my own, and she wobbled from leg to leg as we approached his desk like twin tidal waves. “Hi Puck,” I said. “This is Charlotte.”

Charlotte didn’t waste any time in getting to business, coming around the desk and spinning him about in his chair to the side while I restrained him. This was all very unprofessional, but I don’t think any of us cared as Charlotte began to strip Puck down. “Oh you were right, Rae-Rae,” Charlotte cooed. “He’s skinny like a little boy, but he’s definitely a man where it counts.”

“Hey now!” Puck tried to protest half-heartedly but was silenced by one of my sizeable breasts shoved in his mouth as I stroked his ears, knowing how sensitive they were. He became very compliant very quickly as Charlotte wrapped her breasts around his crotch and began moving the sleeve of hot mammary up and down. I knew this was more for our amusement than his, watching every action with escalating levels of lust, but I knew he wasn’t going to complain at that point. However, he was still surprised when Charlotte stood up after he had peaked and dropped her panties exposing her masculine girth. He only struggled a little when I put pressure on the back of his head and forced him to engulf Charlotte in his mouth while she encouragingly moaned in my ear. This was definitely more than he had been expecting.

We signed Charlotte right away.

***

The biggest change, all things considered, was when I was included in one of Raven’s super adventures for the first time.

Raven and I were moving through the food court at Eidos Mall because she was, as she put it, dying for a sandwich. I could have pointed out that said sandwich wasn’t on her dietary list and could toss her whole routine into whack, but she had been so happy that day as she dragged me from store to store on one of her purchasing binges, I didn’t want to dissuade her from anything. The secret of the universe, kids, I’m a putz if it makes my clients happy. So there we were, me in my suit, and she in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless men’s t-shirt that left a profound amount of her flat gray six-pack exposed. I was also having trouble concentrating because somewhere along the way Raven had acquired a charm of some sort, and the tiny stud was glinting from her navel where it had pierced at just the right position the only way to truly get a good look at it was if someone was going down on her.

Suddenly a bright white hole, in reality, was torn open, filled with scintillating snow, and from the fracture entered a terrifying thing I had seen to date: a cackling neck beard. He looked like a hunchbacked troglodyte with deep dark circles under his beady green eyes and a crooked grin plastered across his acne punished face. It didn’t help he had a bright shock of red hair and mutton chops that matched the cheesy puff stains on his ragged shirt. Other than that, he looked to be dressed like someone who fundamentally isn’t cool trying to be cool. He wore a black trench coat and fingerless vinyl gloves with a vague Nintendo theme. His jeans had patched over holes in the knees that were last decade, and he wore a pair of shoes with prominent air pumps on the tongue. Much as I had described East Island as looking like an anime convention had thrown up on it, this guy had been dipped in the nineties and rolled in stupid.

Raven’s brows knit together in confusion. “Control Freak?”

“A guy from work?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Kind of.”

“At last,” the neck beard crowed with a mouth full of dental work and slurring. “I’ve broken through to the real world.” He rubbed his hands together and I noticed for the first time he was clutching a remote in his hands. “I can control it all,” he sniggered. “All the programming everywhere, I will be the Alpha and the Omega of Animation.”

“Are you kiddin’, brother?” I said.

Then I realized I had called attention to myself and felt a terrible sinking sensation. Control Freak fixed me with his wild-eyed stare and grinned wider. “Well if it isn’t Puck,” he said. “Nineteen Ninety-Four Greg Wiesman, voiced by Brent Spiner, mint in box.”

“The Hell you say?” I squinted at him. Let it never be said The Puck, right hand of Oberon, lacks pride. I was over four hundred years old. The number of Eidos who could make that claim could be counted in double digits and this seedy asshole was breaking down a career of centuries into one three-year production.

“You’re going to go for a cool million when I take you back to the real world and sell you!” Control Freak proclaimed. Until that moment I had never, in all my years, actually met someone who stopped doing what he was doing to monolog and here he was with the evil cackle and everything.

It was some of the worst acting I had ever seen.

“The ultimate cosplay!” he continued. “I’ll be rich beyond the dreams of Skywalker Ranch!”

I tapped him on the shoulder. As he had been orgasming about how he was going to sell me into slavery I had walked over as calm as you please, looked him up and down and surreptitiously put on one of the leather gloves I keep in my pocket for just such an occasion. It’s a hard business, being an Agent in this city, and I had found that a nice pair of brass knuckles and a pair of good thick gloves did the trick. He blinked and looked down at me, and I smiled back. “I’m sorry sir,” I said. “But I’m going to have to decline.”

Then I drove my fist into his solar plexus with as much force as I could muster.

Control Freak staggered back bent in half, waving one hand out to stabilize himself, and for a moment I felt a pang of regret I had hit him that hard. He was like a bath toy someone had let the air out of, partially deflated and kind of pathetic, and then he glowered at me. “That was a dirty trick,” he sneered. “That’s not what heroes are supposed to do.”

“I’m not a hero you pedantic little man,” I said. “I’m the goddamn Puck.”

I moved to put a stop to this once and for all with a follow-up blow, but I found I couldn’t move as Control Freak quick drew his remote like a wild west star and hit a button. I was paused. Then I began to move backward. First, he moving into my fist, then my fist moving back to my side where I stood in front of him. Then, having rewinded me where he wanted me, he paused again and moved to the side. “You’re tough, elf,” he said. “But Control Freak is a god here.”

He laughed. “I can do anything.”

Then he railed up to sock me one in the face. Now, full disclosure, he didn’t look that dangerous. However, as he moved his fist he moved it in slow motion – making a slo-mo sound with his mouth – before tapping me lightly on the chin. Then he rewound himself, only to hit fast forward, and the second time that fist came into contact with me it drove me into the ground, shattering tiles in all directions.

That was when I knew I was in trouble.

Impetuously I had stepped forward, doing my agent thing, in an attempt to protect my client. I was doing the superhero thing, and I wasn’t a superhero, I was a Fae with a broken jaw who couldn’t cast spells. This fat dipstick was the ultimate fanboy, given ultimate power by his arcane device in a realm of the multiverse where belief trumped all other powers.

Thankfully, Raven wasn’t slack while I was getting my ass kicked.

Having summoned her uniform from the aether with a burst of her dark powers she hovered three feet above the ground within her flowing cloak, her face partially obscured by her hood. So attired, she didn’t look like a porn star, she looked like a hero of ten years ago facing an old enemy. And I, against all reason, was the damsel in distress for this story.

“Hey, Couch Potato, lay off my agent.”

Control Freak reeled about, forgetting me, and glared with a real look of absolute psychopathic rage. This was a person who had been behind the eight ball since birth, perpetually the subject of jokes and jibes, and the absolute wrong person to get any kind of power where he could get back at his tormentors. That didn’t, of course, mean whoever had kicked this kid while he was down didn’t have it coming but he could have done better with his powers than be a television villain.

“Raven of the Teen Titans,” he declared. “my arch enemy.”

“I’m not your archenemy,” Raven said. “You’re not even my most annoying enemy.”

“You say that now!” he countered. “But this is my world and I have the all-powerful remote!”

He menaced her with the tiny plastic wand but Raven didn’t seem particularly upset.

“What could you possibly have to defeat me?”

Raven shrugged and threw wide her cloak, grasping the sides of her leotard and pulling it inward to cause her heavy dark skinned breasts to surge into view like a pair of living things. As her nipples poked out she turned her hands to cup the heavy orbs and kneaded them firmly like bread dough, showing off their sheer weight. Control Freak’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he started to drool.

“These?” she said teasingly.

“Boobies,” Control Freak said. “want to touch the boobies.”

As he stumbled towards her with hands outstretched he dropped his remote and Raven snatched it up with a tendril of energy. Then she slapped him on the hand with one of her own. “No,” she said. “none for you.”

If he was upset by this, he was too busy staring like a lovesick schoolboy. Raven released me from the pause and then rewound until I was able to stand up again with my jaw back in position. It still hurt like a son of a bitch as it popped back into position, and I rubbed my chin with a black look as I eyed Control Freak completely under the sway of Raven’s exposed tits. To be fair, I hadn’t seen them unclothed at this point either, and I should have been just as spellbound, but I was too pissed.

“Goddamn, virgins.”

“Call the boys, Puck,” Raven purred gently, using one hand to curl Control Freak’s hair as he stood staring at her immense assets worshipfully. “I’ll keep him here for you.”

And she did. She kept him right there, mesmerized by those massive knockers until the police collected him and took him away. Control Freak wasn’t an Eidos, so that became a sticky widget. There was a rumor going around he was an ‘ascended fanboy’, a viewer from the other side who had somehow violated the laws of space and time to enter into the multiverse using his remote, but that was an investigation for people more senior than me. I was just an agent, and glad to be rid of the Cheeto-dusted pain in the ass.

Later, though, I asked Raven why we had gone through all of this. She could have had jugs on demand magically, and she had her own magic, she didn’t even need the agency for that. Raven smiled at me and shrugged, looking more like the anxious teen I had met at the pizza joint. “I just wanted to be big,” she explained. “When I watch the old shows you’ve got Starfire, whose carrying around a pair of cannonballs all the time, and Terra whose supposed to be about fifteen in that skin tight shirt with her Lara Croft arrowheads.”

She shrugged. “Look at me, Raven, flat as a board by design. I was never ashamed of who I was, Puck, I just wanted me outside to reflect who I was on the inside.” Then she smiled. “Now I’m one of the biggest.”

I cracked one of my winning smirks Raven’s way.

“You were always big to me, kiddo.”

Just another story in the multiverse.

**Author's Note:**

> The second part of our Agency 34 universe setting, this time focusing on Raven and her exploits at Agency 63 and how she ends up at Agency 34 with Puck & Co. 
> 
> As always feedback is appreciated, requests for work will be considered and commissions are accepted.
> 
> For requests please subscribe to our channel on picarto and drop by with your idea
> 
> https://picarto.tv/runeknight3
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